


Sub Rosa

by Khadgarfield



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: BIG GENN THIRST, Its not unrequited tho dw, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Pillow Fucking, Possibly Unrequited Love, Sexual Fantasy, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29486823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khadgarfield/pseuds/Khadgarfield
Summary: He knows.Genn knows that he knows.So Genn fucks a pillow about it idk.
Relationships: Genn Greymane/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Sub Rosa

**Author's Note:**

> YES I AM STILL BIG HORNY FOR GENN thank u for your concern.

He knows.

Genn knows that he knows.

That was the thing about the young king – he had an uncanny knack for knowing everything. The usual explanation was that his network of spies was ever dutiful, and Genn knew enough about SI:7 and the people who ran it to believe this was in some part true, but even Shaw and his band of rogues could not account for the minutiae of his insight. Particularly concerning matters that remained sequestered in the deepest, darkest caverns of Genn’s heart.

Genn could tell he knew because of the way he looked at him. He could tell he knew because of the way he would pause in the middle of a conversation and flick his gaze at him across the room. Anduin could practically _smell_ it on him, no matter how hard Genn tried to scrub the heady scent of his guilt off his skin, but as he sat at dinner smelling only of citrus soap and hydrosols Genn could tell that Anduin was aware of it, still. Perhaps his insight was a little more mystical than a simple lick of pheromones, then, and Genn felt a little bit stupid for assuming, but oh if his knowledge wasn’t a product of observation then _how…_

And more to the point, why had he not said anything to him about it yet? How had he done nothing, idly sitting by, and let his wry little smiles imply that he might even _encourage_ this illicit, shameful thing? Genn tried very hard not to think about what those pointed looks and astute smiles might mean, lest he find himself slipping deep into a hole he wouldn’t be able to get out of, but at the end of a long day when he was tired and his guard was down, he wasn’t always able to help himself from entertaining the thought.

What if Anduin didn’t just know?

What if he also wanted it?

Was it possible that he enjoyed the knowing? That he took pleasure in the notion of Genn turning his thoughts to him during those late and infinitely private hours? It was alluring, certainly, to ponder as much, to contemplate himself through Anduin’s eyes when he shucked the mantle of noble blood and became merely a man like any other - a subject to a man’s desires.

Genn kicked off his boots when he arrived at his chambers. It was a small, familiar ritual to terminate another exhausting day. He removed his coat from off his shoulders, peeled off his trousers, and loosened the laces of his shirt. He illuminated a lamp, using the enchanted luminator he was gifted by Jaina last Winter’s Veil, and with a comforting glow licking the stone walls Genn approached the window to shut it against the spitting rain.

This divesting process really did feel wonderful. Not having the weight of his coat on his shoulders instantly made him feel ten years younger. He raked his hand through his hair and it fell in short waves out of its usual strict style. Genn poured himself a drink of water from the carafe on the table, and downed the entire glass in one go. It was cool and tasted faintly of lemon – he was never sure who it was who ensured he had water on his table every night, but whoever they were he hoped they were getting paid well. He had always taken conveniences like this for granted, in Gilneas, but here as a refugee in Stormwind he appreciated every last one.

Genn, thirst sated, proceeded to collapse face down into his cot. It was a sturdy thing, likely antique, but he found it slightly too small for his frame. His rooms in the keep were just generally cramped, though, and so was the furniture in them. Genn thought his bedchamber was likely a stone wrought closet until the day that king Varian had finally saw fit to accommodate him, yet he had never bothered to complain or request any kind of upgrade. There was something distinctly reassuring about the smallness of the space, familiarity in the rickety desk under a keyhole window, and the narrow little woodstove in the corner. The cot, at least, was beautifully soft, and now instead of Varian it was Anduin who saw that the servants kept his sheets clean, and fresh smelling, and warm.

This was a tremendous comfort in his middle age. In the evenings, usually as the days drew closer to midnight, Genn could feel decades in his joints, his exhaustion manifesting behind his eyes in the form of a dull tension headache. Some nights he could handle it better than others, and usually this capacity was directly related to how much time he would have spent in Anduin’s proximity – the closer he was to the young man, the closer he was to the embodiment of the holy light, the longer he could go without feeling the years creeping up on him. It was only once he was alone again that he grew creaking and tired. He wondered fleetingly if there would come a day that he spent all his time away from Anduin in his Worgen skin, since the ravages of maturity were less harsh on him in that form.

There were two things, though, which did not seem to calcify, irrespective of his age. Genn wasn’t sure if that was because of the curse, though, or simply a reflection of who he was deep down inside. His heart was one of them - it only seemed to burn hotter every day. His sexual appetite, of course, was the other. It was this latter issue which, above all other things, made him thankful for his private, single room in the heart of the Keep. It was far away from Mia, who loved him dearly, but had refused him in her bed ever since the death of their son. He knew, should he be stuck with her in lodgings, it would become a point of resentment - she would expect him to resist the urge to take himself in hand. Mia had an unfortunate habit of believing he was a better man than he really was, or at least expect him to be more virtuous. There really was nothing virtuous about the thoughts that addled his mind in the evenings, though. Especially on days that he had kept Anduin company, and endured the weight of his prettiness wearing against his psyche.

Genn groaned, propping himself up enough to drag one of his pillows down, and crush the thing firmly against his chest. It didn’t come close to a true embrace, but the pillow was soft and smelled faintly of peacebloom soap. It was the same soap the servants used to wash Anduin’s clothing, the same soap that permeated the air in the heart of the Keep where Anduin forged his home between the walls of a legacy. It was a scent Genn associated with the king, and his gentle smile, and the light touch of his hand against Genn's forearm when he said his name with a sweetness that made his heart feel soft.

With a soft groan, Genn wriggled the pillow down his body, shifting his weight so as to be on top of the thing like he was riding a horse into battle. Once he had it between his legs, he paused for a moment to just rest, and savor the silence that enfolded him. Even his keen senses, sharpened still in human form, could pick up no sign of human company nearby. The rain was beginning to pick up outside, tapping on the windows like the ghost of winter entreating entrance to his room. Genn wondered distantly what Anduin was doing right now, cloistered safe in his own rooms. Had he too retired to the comfort of his own bed? Did he lie naked beneath blankets and sheets and think of those secret, unspoken things that he knew?

Genn felt warmth rising in his cheeks, particularly at the thought that the youth might be undressed. Anduin’s body bore no great mysteries to him - Genn had seen him in states of nakedness many times since they had become equals. A healer as much as he was a king, Anduin had a comfort with bare flesh that Genn himself had always lacked – whether that was because Gilnean culture was modest, or because Genn was simply prudish in his own right, it was difficult to tell. Certainly, he knew that the first time Anduin had stripped off to bathe in his presence, Genn had experienced something that had slung him back to his own youth. Back before he had lain with a man or with a woman, and knew only of the mysteries of ankles, and wrists, and collarbones.

_“What’s wrong, Genn?”_

The way he asked it still echoed in his memory. It was half-amused, half-inviting, and Genn pondered if he remembered those words too. What had he meant by it, truly?

Genn rocked his hips gently against the pillow, the friction muted through the cotton of his underclothes. The way the object yielded to him rendered his cock stiff in less than an instant. He gnawed self-consciously on the inside of his lip – the first few minutes of using the pillow was always the hardest, because it always felt the most shameful and compromising. Was Anduin privy to this _specific_ detail, too? Perhaps In a few minutes, he might have derived pleasure from the prospect, but for now he tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to embarrass himself so much that he wasn’t able to finish.

Blessedly, when he closed his eyes, the pillow between his thighs became the slope of a slim, well-muscled back. Inside the darkness of his eyelids, the body prone before him pushed back on his length in invitation. He thought Anduin seemed like the type to moan as his cock glided along the valley off his ass, he seemed like the type who might let his hair down, sliding over his shoulders, and Genn knew from the briefest and most precious touches that that hair was smooth and soft and heavy with his scent. Would Anduin let him curl his fingers in it? Let him tug on the roots with a gentle hand? Genn didn’t ever want to hurt him, but light did he want to test the boundaries he drew between pleasure and pain. Genn remembered a time when Anduin had brushed Genn's own hair off his face – his fingers had been light and innocent, looping a slightly too-long section back behind the tip of Genn's ear with a giggle.

“Weren’t you criticizing my hair a week ago?” he asked, and Genn had cut his hair himself when he returned to his chambers, but the frission of delight he had experienced lingered deliciously. He felt the sensation again as he rutted against the object between his legs, fucking shallow into the softness while his mind conjured the memory of Anduin’s laboured breathing. The way his voice twinkled when he laughed. The way he moved his body with a mystical precision that made it obvious the light guided his hands

Oh, those hands. That touch. Even when Anduin’s eyes came to rest on him it was like he was laying his palms against Genn’s flesh and sometimes, when he looked at him, Genn felt like he was being electrified. He often had to pause for a moment while the ripples of pleasure promised, but not delivered, dissolved over his skin. Sometimes Anduin would touch him, on the arm or on the back, and Genn would find himself having to conceal his hardened cock even as Anduin smiled to himself and carried on as though he had done nothing of consequence. His hips faltered in their movements, a drip of pleasure sending ripples through his body, and Genn could tell his climax was impending. 

He wondered if Anduin knew, even as he did it. If he was lay on his bed with his thighs parted, and those slim fingers pressed inside himself while he thought of Genn fucking him slow, and sensual, and deep. Did he touch himself languidly, with a loose hand, or did he pump hard and fast into an urgent fist? Did he tip his head back in unguarded delight, or did he lie rigid and tense and twist his fingers into the sheets that creased beneath his back? Genn wondered if he had toys to pleasure himself with, something to emulate the sensation of a cock sliding against his prostate, or if he used his magic in ways that Genn couldn’t even begin to think of.

Oh, how Genn wished that he could feel him. That he could feel his shaking breath against his cheek as he mounted him and fucked him and stroked his cock until his toes curled in bliss. Genn dared to imagine the way he moaned when he had an orgasm, the way his brows pulled as he rode out his release, and for a moment he even thought he could hear the way his voice would waiver as he begged Genn to fill him up. Genn wished he could fill him so many times he lost count.

Genn finished with a shudder and a low groan, still within the constraints of his smallclothes. The pillow between his thighs was crushed, and the release of muscles left him breathless, weak, and aching. It was good though, doing this _always_ felt good, and tomorrow, when he got up in the morning to meet the king for breakfast in the courtyard, Genn thought he would be able to keep himself calm and sober and completely sensible.

Anduin knew though. Of course he did. But Genn wasn’t sure what he would do if he ever really found out.


End file.
